


No Kiss Farewell

by MorbidbyDefault



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Comfort/Tragedy, F/M, Gen, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:54:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorbidbyDefault/pseuds/MorbidbyDefault
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, here's that surprise chapter i had mentioned on my tumblr post the other day. :D Enjoy!</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Yay Zombie! Prompt! My first, so Hopefully I don't let you down...here goes!

Oh, I don't own any of the characters. Just the words really.

No Kiss Farewell

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It was a wonder how she even got up to the roof. Naturally the outbreak began in the morgue, the corpse she was performing an autopsy on suddenly springing to life. It had spread from that one to the others, as the undead thing opened body closet after body closet. Molly was lucky she had gotten out of the morgue at all. And, despite her precautions of locking down the cold room, the creatures broke through the glass as if it were nothing. From there, the infection spread quickly, and by the time she'd reached the fourth floor, many of the staff and patients were being picked off by the ever growing hoard. She naturally called Sherlock, who was in the lab, just the floor below her.

''Molly, what is it? You know I prefer to text.'' His voice was clipped as usual, and John rolled his eyes. That is, until he saw the detective sit up in his chair, straight as a board.

''You're panting. You're running. Molly, what's wrong?" His voice was piqued with sudden interest, and just a bit of concern. Molly tried regaining her breath as she ran down the hall, effectively trying to lock down as many of the wings as she could.

''Sher...run...you've got...get out of there!" Her voice was ragged, and Sherlock could hear her bursting through large sets of doors at a breaking speed. Soon, John could hear the muffled sounds of screams and something more...animal. He grabbed his coat quickly, flinging it on.

''Sherlock...we've got to go...'' He said, just as a pack of the creatures kicked through the door to the lab. Sherlock's eyes widened, and he, too, flung his coat on around him. There were five of them, and John immediately drew out his gun, shooting at one who was just a bit close for comfort. The once-was person fell back, dropping to the floor. While it wailed in agony, it refused to die. John's eyes widened as it started crawling toward his legs, grappling for him in desperation. He shot again, this time aiming for its head. It went down, and stayed that way, leaving John with the knowledge of how to kill them. Meanwhile, Sherlock was securing two others in the corner with one of the large roll away carts of chemicals. His hand still held onto the phone, listening to Molly on the other end,

''Molly, get to the roof. It will be alright, just get to the roof.'' His deep voice seemed to carry louder than usual, and he soon pocketed the mobile as John hollered for him to run. They took off in a dead sprint for the flight of stairs that led to the roof. Along the way, they had encountered several more creatures, all of which seemed that they were still partly human. The younger ones decayed fastest, the lights leaving their eyes at a much quicker rate than the adults.

Molly had done what she could, and was now anxiously waiting at the top of the hospital. She grimaced and cringed as she heard the sounds of screams filling the air below her, obvious that they had taken to the streets. She had barricaded the entrance she took, and now nervously shifted on either foot, a cold, lead pipe in her hands as a means of some sort of protection. She jumped in fear at the sound of the metal door opening, and breathed out in relief to see both of the men unharmed, and more importantly, unchanged. John blocked off the entrance, while Sherlock strode quickly to her side. Molly dropped the pipe to the floor, her eyes immediately flooding with tears.

''Molly, it's alright now. We will phone Mycroft, he'll be able to sort all this chaos out.'' His words fell to her ear, but she didn't rightly care what he was saying. She crumpled to the floor, and tried to regain her composure, as Sherlock carried out the action. She was vaguely aware of his words to his brother, and barely paid attention as John tried to calm her down.

''So...so many...people. I tried...I tried...'' she muttered quietly, rocking herself back and forth as she tried to keep herself warm. Soon, she felt a warm thing drape around her. Molly looked up, to see that Sherlock had given her his large Bel Staff coat. Molly smiled weakly at him, and he wordlessly nodded. After several minutes, they could hear the sounds below them grow quiet, obvious that most of the people in the immediate neighborhood had been changed. The silence was eerie, not calming as one would think. It was while Sherlock and John were discussing their plan, when it happened. They hadn't seen how it got there, or where it had been hiding. But suddenly, there it was. A creature, digging its nails into Molly's arm, and fiercely, savagely biting down on her wrist. She screamed out in pain, and John and Sherlock's eyes flew to her. John quickly shot the monster between the eyes, and it fell dead. Molly could do nothing, apart from stare in shock at her bleeding wrist. Sherlock outwardly cursed, and slammed his fist into the nearest surface. John walked to her side, and he drew his hand across her back.

''Oh no. No, please...John...help.'' Molly's voice was quiet, her eyes stinging with held back tears. John looked up as he felt her hand reach to his, drawing the gun up to point at her forehead. John immediately dropped his hand, stepping back from her quickly.

''Molly, no! I can't! You're my friend... I can't shoot you!'' His voice was sincere. John was, and had been, many things. He was a soldier, he was a doctor. But most of all, he was loyal, and a very true friend. He could kill anyone, move mountains of bodies to save someone, but actually kill one of his own friends, no. Molly's tears slid down her cheeks, and John soon felt a strong grip on his hand. He looked up, to see Sherlock grabbing hold of the gun, taking it from him.

''Please, I don't want to...become one of them. Please.'' She whispered her plea, and John found he couldn't agree to it. He could not be that man.

''John, go wait around the corner.'' His voice was cold, and his eyes hadn't left Molly's face since the bite happened. John opened his mouth to protest, when the tall, pale man looked at him, his gaze fierce with some hidden emotion.

''John, go. Now.'' Sherlock said, his voice low with the command. John nodded, before he stood next to Molly. He kissed her cheek, and walked a few feet away, to stand behind the bricks that encased the stairwell.

Sherlock stood in front of her now, simply staring at her. Molly didn't know what he was waiting for, but she didn't care.

''How...how much time do we have?'' She heard him ask. Molly looked up to see his face, it was etched in absolute misery. She smiled weakly, and walked closer to him.

''A few minutes. Listen to me, Sherlock...I'm...I'm so glad I met you. You're...well, you're fantastic. And I lo...love you.'' She said quietly, tears slipping freely from her eyes now. The next thing she knew, Sherlock's lips were inches from hers.

''I can't even kiss you, as a farewell, can I?'' he asked in a whisper, to which she shook her head. He chuckled bitterly, before pulling the small woman into his arms.

''Why is it, that the one person who can make me feel so...human...is the same person who is about to lose all sense of humanity?" He asked in her ear, and Molly breathed his scent. He was becoming progressively sweeter smelling, and she knew it wasn't long.

''Sherlock...it's almost time...please...be safe. Solve this...for me.'' He nodded his head, and kissed her on the cheek, his lips lingering for just a bit.

''Goodbye, Molly Hooper.'' He said lowly in her ear. Molly finally pushed him away, and waited for the change to happen. She shut her eyes, calming her slipping resolve, and when she opened them again, she took one last look at him. Sherlock Holmes: the man she loved from day one. The man who was so brilliantly clever and bright. The man who was willing to do what other men couldn't. The man who would save her. She looked into his eyes, and saw the glimmer of something so incredibly human, it made her forget about the change.

Sherlock waited until he saw the last bit of her slip away, watched as the bright gleam in her eyes faded out, leaving only a shell of his lovely pathologist. He raised his arm, the gun in his hand.

Bang.

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Well, that was just...uber depressing. Ah, it's good to be back! Morbid is my name, writing tragedy is my calling in life. Apparently. Well, hope that was okay for you! Let me know?


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all so much for the support and kind reviews for my first zombie fic! This is upon a vague request from sincerelydayyy to extend my zombie fic. At first I didn't see how to continue...but I was struck with the idea today. So, at the turning of a new year...here is the 2nd chapter of No Kiss Farewell. Be forewarned, it's not much happier either.

Oh, I don't own anything.

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It had been seventeen months since they battled their way off the rooftop of St. Bart's hospital. Seventeen long, grueling months of hiding from creatures, fighting to survive, helping who they could. If truth were to be told, John and Sherlock were both a bit surprised at how many survivors they had come across in their wanderings. The creatures had overrun the greater London area, and the infection was spreading across the UK faster than a wildfire. However, there was a rumor floating about. Rumor of a change.

''They're all so hopeful. Idiots.'' Sherlock hissed as he shut off the radio in 221B. He and John had managed to hole themselves up in their old flat recently. Mrs. Hudson had, no doubt, fled with a lot of the others to America, until it was safe to return. If it was ever safe to return. John glanced up from his laptop, looking over at a scowling, hollowed man.

''Well, maybe the hope of a cure keeps them from getting themselves killed. You shouldn't blame them for wanting things to stop.'' John tried reasoning with his friend, but knew it was all for not.

''Yes, and when a cure isn't discovered, then they will lose that hope, and die faster. Honestly, people believe the most ridiculous rubbish.'' Sherlock groaned, before walking to the sofa and throwing himself on it. John stood, and walked to the chair facing the door.

''Why don't you get some sleep? I'll stand watch for a few hours.'' John stated softly. When Sherlock looked as through he were going to protest, John pointed at him, narrowing his eyes.

''You've not slept in five days, Sherlock. You're running yourself ragged. Sleep, or I'll have to sedate you.'' He pointed again, and the man huffed out a sigh that sounded like 'fine'.

OoOo

She was always there, waiting for him in his dreams. Her long, brown hair whipping around her neck. Her large, beautiful brown eyes staring up at him. It was always there, too. That small, perfectly round bullet hole, right between her eyebrows. She still managed to look lovely to him. In the dreams, she never said anything, just smiled at him as he pulled the trigger. Then, it was over. She always fell so gracefully, gently crumbling onto the concrete roof. It had taken John two hours to convince him they had to leave. He insisted on leaving her and barring the entrance to the rooftop, not wanting her frail body to become a feast for the infected to devour. Her eyes were closed as he walked away, a small smile still teasing the corners of her lips. Those lips he never got to kiss. Never to be kissed.

OoOo

Sherlock jolted awake. He glanced around, desperately seeking her out. When he didn't find her, Sherlock sighed out, a bit sadly. His eyes met John's sympathetic ones, before he marched over to the radio, flipping it on.

''New reports coming in, they have found a cure! I repeat, they have a cure!" The voice from the box was thrilled, giving the details of the vaccine being air dropped over the effected UK. John and Sherlock both looked out the window, to see large planes approaching the heart of London.

''Happy New Year, Sherlock.'' John said, clapping his hand over the taller man's shoulder.

OoOo

It had been three months after the cure dropped, and London was as ever a lively place as before. The people had returned to normal, and their lives were getting their as well. Apart from one man. One darkening, bitter, consulting detective.

Sherlock, are you going to help with this case or not?" Lestrade asked to the stoic man. Sherlock seemed absent, even when in the room. His face held an empty, almost lost look. He didn't even hear the inspector's rantings of how important it was. That is, until he heard one key phrase, which pushed him over the edge.

''Jeeze, everything is normal again. Even the crime came back, everyone is back to normal. Why aren't you?" Lestrade was unaware of how his words enraged the genius sitting across from him. That is, until Sherlock suddenly stood, paced to the window, picked up his music stand, and threw it across the room. Lestrade and John both ducked out of its way.

''Bloody hell, Sherlock! What the hell has-'' John started.

''Things haven't all gone back to normal! Currently, everyone is getting on with their lives just fine: hugging their family, going to work, walking their pets. Meanwhile, there is a replacement being sought out for one of the finest skilled pathologists in the entirety of Europe. Because she didn't get to come back. She didn't return to normal, Lestrade, because she's dead. So before you go preaching to me about how I should be thrilled and ecstatic that the whole of the United Kingdom is getting on with life, just stop. Because the only person I truly wish to return never can. Don't expect me to be happy for the well being of an entire nation, not when I've lost her.'' Sherlock's voice was positively venomous. His eyes were ablaze with the hurt that had been brewing underneath his cold exterior for the past twenty months. John and Lestrade both stared in shock as the detective's mask crumbled before them. He now stood, coldly staring out the window and out at the world he now despised.

John stood, and slowly approached him.

''Sherlock...she wouldn't want you to be like this. That day, on the roof,'' he saw his friend visibly shudder at the mention of it. ''You told her she was the one person who made you feel human. Molly wouldn't want you to turn into this. She'd want you to be...better.'' He muttered, placing a hand on Sherlock's arm. He turned to look at John, and the doctor was stunned to see him look so broken. His eyes were pained, excruciating to look into.

''How do I live with myself now? It was easier before, following her logic. Now though, now they've all been cured. She would have been cured. John, she would have been cured, and she'd still be here if I hadn't...how am I supposed to deal with that?" Sherlock asked quietly, his deep voice struggling to maintain its composure. John sighed deeply, before shrugging.

''I don't know, mate. Maybe start by taking a case. Even if it is just a six.'' John smiled a bit. Sherlock sighed deeply, before he nodded his head.

''Alright.''

He would never return to the way things were. He couldn't. Not when he had promised to strive to be better, for Molly.

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Hmmm, well...yea. hope that was a thoroughly good feel inducing beginning to your New Year. I look forward to writing even more fan-fiction in the year 2013! Hope you'll stick around to read them. I just want to say thank you to all of you for making my past year so much more fun tan I could have hoped it to be. You have become my friends, and even if we never meet, I care about you all so very much! Love you all!

Lol, Oh, what did you think of the fic?


	3. No Kiss Farewell Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's that surprise chapter i had mentioned on my tumblr post the other day. :D Enjoy!

So, here's that surprise chapter i had mentioned on my tumblr post the other day. :D Enjoy!

**oh, I still don't own anything other than the story itself. Characters are already spoken for by better people.**

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It had been a year later, when the seemingly normal floor of Sherlock's world dropped out from underneath him. The buzzer had been short, to the point, and it almost seemed to hesitate. John was the one to answer it. He ran down the stairs, just as the bell rang again.

"Yes, yes, just a moment. I'm coming, I'm coming." He reached the door and opened it to greet whomever had decided they needed a case solved. However, as he pulled the handle attached to the large, deep ebony wood, he almost collapsed.

"Hi, John." Came the response, followed by a small, sweet smile. John was white as a sheet. Having just seen a ghost, it was perfectly sound. He stumbled to find a word, any word, to present. She stepped forward, just a bit, and placed her hand on his shoulder. He felt it. He could feel it. She was real, really there on their front step.

"Oh my God, you're..." John breathed out, before pulling her into a deep and crushing hug. She breathed out against his ear, and he swore it was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. As they separated, a booming voice from the floor above came.

"What is taking so long? I need a case, John. Bring them up already!" His piercing voice of rude tone brought the brightest of smiles to her face. They both looked up the staircase, and John turned to her, seeing her suddenly nervous face. He pulled her in for another hug, his hands patting her hair to ensure she was still there.

"I'll stay down here, give you some privacy." He said with a nod. She shook her head adamantly.

"No please, please, John. I need...I think I need you for this." She replied. John smiled his agreement, and led their way up the stairs. He pushed the door open, and ushered her in. Sherlock had been facing the window, clearly annoyed that it was taking so long for his next case. She instantly lost her breath, seeing him again. He was all together the same as the last time she had seen him, with a slightly brighter aura than he used to possess.

"Do skip the dull details, if you please." He said, not turning around yet. She looked back at John, who had that sympathetic smirk on his face. He motioned for her to say something, nodding his reassurance to her. She turned back around and took a step forward.

"Hello, Sherlock." She said. Her voice was quiet, peaceful and very nervous. John looked up to his friend, just in time to see his entire body tense. He slowly turned, and his already pale skin drained of what little color it held. He physically faltered, his knees going weak as he saw her there.

"Molly...Mol..." His voice barely contained any sound at all, apart from the choked tone as he tried to swallow. She took a step to him, and he fell against the windowsill as he recoiled. Molly rushed to his side, making sure he was okay.

"Sherlock!" She cried, her hands immediately going to grip around his shoulders. His usually bright and cleverly piercing eyes were a dark hazy shade, unfocused with shock.

"But you...I...I..." He stuttered, unable to say the words that had plagued and guilted his mind for the past three years. His hands shook as they went to touch her face. His thumb slid nervously and softly over the puckered scar that grazed her cheek. It was slightly red still, but had mostly healed. She smiled softly, and her hand joined his.

"You missed." She whispered. His eyes shot up to her beautiful brown ones, eyes he thought he'd never see again. He looked at her with such an innocent, unguarded confusion.

"That day on the roof," she began, "you closed your eyes. You missed your target, and I had already changed. The anatomical changes left me with a very quick cell reconstruction. Had you hit me here, I would have died." Molly pointed to the weak point right between her eyes. His eyes glanced over the scar again, realizing now that it was a bullet wound scar. Sherlock searched her face over and over again, trying to figure out how it was that she was here. He looked to John, who was smiling at the two of them. He nodded, having heard and understood how she survived, and turned to excuse himself. He turned back to find her ever closer, and he, acting on pure impulse, heaved her into his arms. She breathed out and chuckled in relief and contentment. After an eternity to her, but not nearly long enough for him, they pulled apart just a bit.

"You're here. You're really here, aren't you?" He asked, his face holding a boyish quality to it. Molly smiled and nodded her head as she brushed an errant curl out of his eyes. The touch of her gentle fingers, fingers he had come to accept would never grace a cup of coffee or scalpel again, sent shivers of pure joy down Sherlock's spine. His hand was absently stroking her face over and over again, and Molly's hand had found purchase along the fine curls of the back of his head. The two were silent, simply reacquainting themselves with the other. As if an afterthought, Sherlock muttered to her quietly.

"I never got to kiss you goodbye. Not like I wanted." Molly looked up to find him peering down at her lips. She remembered what he had said those three years ago. What he had wanted to give her as a final gift. Molly smiled and sought his eyes out to look at hers.

"It's not goodbye anymore, Sherlock. You solved it, you fixed it. It's not a farewell, it's hello." Molly grazed her thumb over the high cheekbone of his face, and pulled him to seal her lips against his. It was sweet and tender, everything that he had imagined it would have been like. Those beautiful lips that he had time and time again chastised. Those lips that he had never felt, and was sure he would never know. She was alive, and he decided he would spend this lifetime appreciating everything he could about his beautiful Molly. Molly's lips, Molly's soft skin, Molly's hair. Molly. He kissed her over and over again, still trying to tell his mind she was alive.

"Hello...hello, hello, hello."

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Well, there ya go. Dang plot bunnies strike again, this one caught me on the train. Those evil little things. Anyway, SURPRISE! I hope you liked it! Leave me a review or note telling me how much of a happy jerk I am. Lol. Thanks all!


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